Different Eyes
by Still Waiting for Aliens
Summary: Two dresses, two hats, a pair of shoes, a pair of gloves and two boxes of letters and diaries are what I found in those trunks. I'm not sure who they belong to, but just that I found them in my grandmother's closet. This is their story.
1. Prologue

**Different Eyes: Prologue**

One did not simply enter my great-grandmother's attic. I remember being little, maybe two or three, and being told to "Get off the stairs to the attic, you have no business up there" more than once. After her death, I remember some of the boxes coming out of the attic and my grandmother instantly claiming them as her's. I was five.

When I was 20, my grandfather died and two years later, my grandmother passed away. Being her oldest granddaughter, I was expected to help find all the items she had left to her children and grandchildren. I was finally allowed into the secret-keeping hold that was her walk-in-closet. Closest to the door were the clothes she wore the most often, church clothes mostly. There was a hanging rack full of afghans, and I contemplated taking one for my new apartment. I emptied out the clothes and began neatly boxing them, remembering times when she wore this skirt or that blazer. Or that ridiculous Christmas sweater she insisted on wearing every year to my winter violin recital, much to my embarrassment in middle school.

I emptied out the afghans, picked out my favorite, and placed the remaining ones in bags for my cousins.

I spent three days cataloging and boxing her things. Old clothes, jewelry, shoes that would never fit me, and some mementos were carefully wrapped in paper and packed away. My cousins, aunts, and uncles came an picked up their shares; some boxes were mailed to the more distant ones.

That still left two mysterious trunks in the bottom of the very back of her closet. They were old trunks, covered in years of dust, and both locked. I had searched for the key while I was clearing out her room, but never found one that fit either trunk. Still, I was a decent lock-pick, and as I loaded the two trunks and my small share of her clothes and jewelry into the back of my Honda Element, I couldn't help but wonder what was hidden in the trunks, and what two hairpins and some patience would unlock.

Two days of driving later, I arrived at my apartment. My boyfriend lounged on the sofa, watching basketball and enjoying one of the few beers we kept in our apartment.

"Hey, Jo," he said, barely looking up from the game.

"You wanna help me with these boxes?" I asked over the sound of the end of half buzzer.

"I guess."

And so Matt helped me carry my two boxes and two trunks up the flight of stairs to our apartment. I took the clothes and jewelry and things out of the boxes; hung what needed hanging, and stored the rest appropriately.

I then sat down to the task of opening the trunks. I opened the first in just under three minutes; the second in two minutes flat. I nervously opened the first, unsure what I'd find inside.

There was a hatbox and several layers of slightly yellowed tissue paper. I took out the hatbox. I lifted out the tissue and found a dress that would have made the recently-married Duchess of Cambridge squeal with envy. Pale purple silk chiffon covered similarly colored silk. A purple ribbon adorned the waist. The whole thing felt well-preserved, but almost as if it would fall apart if it was touched too much.

Beneath the purple dress was a layer of tissue and then a simple white cotton calico dress, with a wide collar and a picture of a girl in what I assumed was the dress, and a huge white hat with flowers on it. Beneath that dress was purple blouse and a long grey skirt.

There were a few pictures scattered at the bottom of the trunk, mostly of the girl in the first picture with two or three other girls, and one of her with a handsome blonde man. The pictures looked to be about a hundred years old, if the clothes were an indication.

I guessed there would be similar things in the second, larger trunk. I was both right and wrong.

Inside were a pair of boots that actually buttoned and looked like they might fit my feet. There was another hatbox, which I removed, and then there was yet another dress, this one in a dark teal with an empire waist. There were also a pair of matching silk gloves. I held the dress up to my body. It looked like it just might fit me, which would be unusual, considering my tiny waist and generous hips and bust.

That's when I saw two more boxes in the bottom of the trunk. They were Nike shoe boxes, which was odd considering the nature of the clothes I had found in the trunks.

I lifted one out. It was heavy. Quite heavy. I opened the lid and found several books and a mass of letters, tied together with a frayed, faded ribbon. The other box had a mix of letters and neatly wrapped ceramic figures.

"Jo, second half is starting, want to watch?"

I lifted out a book, clearly labeled as a diary.

"No, Matt, I'm unpacking."

"Suit yourself."

_ Dear Mama,_

_ I am greatly enjoying my stay at Downton. My sincerest thanks, once again, for letting me stay. _

_ Today, Mary and I went to Ripon to pick up some things for his Lordship's library..._

I put down the letter. _I think I'll start in the diary, instead. _


	2. Meet Josephine Grace

**Meet Josephine Grace**

_March 10, 1914_

_ Mama told me today that I should begin to keep a diary, as I'm about to embark with her and Papa on a visit to Europe. I try to conceal my excitement at seeing a land I haven't ever laid eyes on, but it's rare occasion when my smile doesn't become broader at hearing "Europe", "England", or "France"..._

_ Josephine_

Josephine. My great-grandmother. The dresses, the shoes, everything belonged to my great-grandmother and namesake, Josephine Grace. I read on.

_ March 16, 1914_

_ Today we left for France! I can scarcely contain my enthusiasm! Still, I have eight days aboard this ship until I will arrive. …._

_ March 17, 1913_

_ If I have one regret about this vacation, it will be that I missed the Independence Day festivities. New York always has the most splendid parade. _

_ I wore my green dress today, the one that brings out my eyes. Mama says I should be proud to be of Irish decent, because it must be my grandfather that gave me my eyes. Her eyes are also the most beautiful green, as are Grandfather's. The eyes seem to be the only thing my face inherited from Grandfather, though. Mama has such beautiful red hair, like Grandfather, while I have hair so dark a brown it almost looks black, like Papa. _

_ I also have Papa's nose, oval face, and warm complexion instead of Mama's round face and pale skin. …._

And so the author went on about her voyage, the food, the dance, and the beautiful chandelier. She also mentioned the cabin steward, a mad she described as "a handsome face, with a sharp intelligence". She documented snippets of the few conversations she had with him.

Was this "Downton" in the letter I read earlier a place in France?

I flipped through the pages, detailed descriptions of Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the food, the fashion, the museums, the house of the distant relation she was staying in. Josephine spent a week in Paris before leaving for Rome.

_ March 31, 1914_

_ Mama and Papa have given me the most superb birthday gift, a tour of the Sistene Chapel. I have never seen such wonderful art in my life, and I was in the best museums in Paris just last week! Ahh..gay Paris, and I return to thee after two weeks in the Eternal City. _

_ But the art of the Chapel! Of everything there, I must say I liked Perugino's _Delivery of the Keys_ the best. St. Peter looks so wonderfully humble and meek, just as I have pictured him in my mind for years..._

_ And __Michelangelo's ceiling! It's simply marvelous, there are no other words for it. And it's hard to believe that _Creation_ was painted in a single day! _

Pages and pages of detailed and descriptive words filled the book. An occasional sketch accompanied some things, like a view from the window of the hotel she was staying in. She returned to France in August, and spent two more weeks in the country, enjoying the beaches, the wines, the food, the museums again. Several pages of the diary were blurred and faded pencil sketches of things she saw in the museum, each titled, dated and signed. Most had comments like "shading too heavy", "right hand too large", or "proportions wrong".

Finally, on April 20, 1914, she described "leaving France with a tearful farewell, as I head to England and a place called Downton Abbey." I breathed a sigh of relief. I had finally found where this Downton was. Her mother's second cousin had married an Earl and left America forever, and was "determined to see us before we left for America again."

_April 20, 1914_

_ ...Mother's cousin's name is Cora, though she is technically "The Right Honorable Cora, Countess of Grantham". I've been informed that I should address her as "La__dy Grantham", or "Her Ladyship". Her husband's name is Robert, "The Right Honorable Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham" and I must call him "Lord Grantham" or "His Lordship". They have three daughters: Mary, Edith and Sybil; Lady Mary is twenty-two, Lady Edith is twenty, and Lady Sybil is seventeen. They don't have the mouthful titles that their parents have. (I don't understand why the titles must be so long and so much like a tongue twister.) Lady Sybil is only six months younger than me, perhaps we will be friends._

_ April 22, 1914_

_ We have arrived at Downton! What a grand old house it is, beautiful in every imaginable way. I haven't seen much of the grounds, as it has been raining since we arrived in England two days ago. I __have gathered that rain in England is a common occurrence though. _

_ We arrived at port and then took the train to the village of Downton, where the chauffeur, Mr. Branson, picked us up. I was able to talk to Mr. Branson briefly, and he told me he's from Ireland. Imagine that! I've finally met a real Irishman from Ireland. He didn't want to talk much about Ireland, even though Mama and I mentioned we were of Irish decent. He seems like a nice man, though, and I wish I could have talked to him a bit more._

_ Lady Grantham has given me permission to call her Cousin Cora, and all three of her daughters have given me permission to call them by their names without their titles. I was speaking to Mary, and addressing her with her proper title when she said, "You are my cousin, correct?" I nodded. "Then dispense with the formalities. Goodness, one would think you were trying to prove you know who I am."_

_ I've been given no such permissions for His Lordship nor for His Lordship's mother, whose name is "The Right Honorable Violet, Countess of Grantham". I call her Lady Grantham, and if I need to distinguish between her and Cousin Cora, she is the "Dowager Countess". I met the Dowager Countess for tea today, and she is a lady of a great number of opinions. She and Cousin Cora were talking about a large array of subjects, most of which I didn't have the proper background knowledge to understand, but the two of them had a great discussion about them. I spoke mostly with Mama, Edith, or Sybil. Mary went to tea at "Mr. Crowley's", a man I have gathered is of some importance to the family. The Dowager Countess was less than pleased with my "lack of respect for my superiors" because I didn't call Sybil "Lady Sybil". _

_ "It's quite alright, Grandma. I've given Josephine my permission to call me Sybil. She is family, after all."_

_ "Distant family! Hardly related!"_

_ "She's a closer relation to us than Matthew," she replied, unfazed by her grandmother. _

_ "Yes, but he's an entirely different situation!"_

_ I like Sybil. She showed me her favorite "frock" which is actually pants! Her description of the scandal it caused when she wore it to dinner was most entertaining, though I don't remember it well enough to write it down now. She and I also share a common interest: a desire for women to be able to vote. The movement seems much better organized in England than it is in the States._

_ I was just asked to begin getting ready for dinner. I'll be back later._

"Jo, if you're not going to cook at least respond when I call you," Matthew glared at me from the door.

"WHAT?" I whipped my head up from the diary to meet his face and then glanced down at the phone that was beside me. It was blinking with an array of text messages and missed calls. I frowned._ I though I left it on sound, not silent. _

"What has got you so wrapped up? Is it all this?"

It had been two days since I had returned home an opened the trunk. Between my job as an art history teacher at one of the local high schools and my part-time position as an art instructor at the local rec center, I hardly had time to for the diaries and letters. Still, my free time was mostly consumed by reading reading the life of Josephine Grace.

"Look, I don't mind if you really enjoy this, but, "he glanced around the room, "if you're not going to be able to keep up with your other duties, like work and cooking, you're going to have to quit it."

I stared back into his eyes and then nodded.

"Why don't you put that book away, and we'll go get burgers and shakes. How does that sound?"

* * *

><p>AN: Subscribers? I have subscribers? *makes gleeful face* Most of what I write are one-shots, so this is a new feeling for me. I seriously almost dropped my iPod when I read my inbox less than 24 hours after posting the prologue and seeing how many subscribers there were. I love you guys! Go make yourself some tea and enjoy an episode of _Downton_.

I also love, love, love reviewers. Reviews are to writers what candy is to a kid. So send me some writer's candy, please. Reviews are part of my epic quest to become a better author.

Harem pants and Rainy Days,

Far From the Home I Love

PS. Because of my status as a double-major at college/uni/university, updates will probably be sporadic. I'll try my best to get at least a couple of chapters up a month.


End file.
